


Night will Fall, and the Dark will Rise

by lynnthere_donethat



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (I would rather overtag than undertag), Ambiguous/Open Ending, And dark, Dream feels guilty, DreamSMP - Freeform, DreamSMP - The Election, Evil TommyInnit, Evil Wilbur Soot, Hurt/No Comfort, Hurt/Very Minor Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Minor Manipulation as it could be read to be manipulative language, Minor Sleepy Bois Inc. feels, Multiple shifts in perspective, Rated M for Dark, Techno stays fairly neutral, This fic is written to hurt, Vague Ending, Villain Wilbur Soot, and first time writing this fandom too, and it's supposed to be sad, dark themes, first time writing darker fics, please don't hurt yourselves and be careful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnthere_donethat/pseuds/lynnthere_donethat
Summary: Desperate to regain their home, Wilbur and Tommy go mad and forcibly take their lands back, ravaging the land and lakes around them into a barren wasteland. They build anew for a second time, and yet the rule is different. Its more cruel. More harsh. Taxes are demanding on the civilians, and reprecussions are severe. What was an overhaul of commercialism has been eradicated into a new life of hardship and oppressive govt. Will the people continue their complacent lives or will a rebellion rise up against a third oppressive government?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	Night will Fall, and the Dark will Rise

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is out to hurt you, and while this is my first time writing darker themes- I had a lot of fun writing this! Wilbur has built quite the storyline for himself, and I was very excited to take this and run with it! 
> 
> Huge and major thanks to my friend, Cass who encouraged me to write this, and helped me actually complete it! 
> 
> Please enjoy!!

Smoke and ash hung heavy in the air. Ruined tapestries, and streamers littered the scarred ground, tendrils of smoke still clinging on, burning away the last remains of the festival. Huge craters littered the Earth. Broken rubble, smoldering wood and the cries of the attendees. Eret felt ice fill his veins as he looked upon the Rebellion’s Light- Ex President and Former General Wilbur Soot. A sickly orange glow surrounded Wilbur, like a hellish halo- laced with despair and treachery. A low cackle filled the silence, barely heard over the crackling fires. Two bodies laid at Wilbur’s feet, charred and broken. Circular horns and tufts of black hair being the defining remains of the primary leaders of Manberg. The poetic similarities weren’t lost on the concurrent King of the DreamSMP lands.

The sky was filled with a hazy orange, the air heavy with smoke. The attendees who had been spared were huddled into a corner, the threatening gleam of Technoblade’s sword preventing them from running, as well as Dream’s intimidating stance. The blond was perched on a table with a green bandana wrapped around the underside of the mask- preventing serious smoke inhalation. Dream was eyeing the surroundings, his crossbow loaded and sweeping through the wreckage the purple energies of the enchantments flickering and glimmering in the lowlight. As planned, none of the intended targets were living, and the carnage broke the thin veneer of normalcy that had kept the citizens at bay. They were facing the harsh realities that had been growing under their noses. With cat-like agility, the blond jumped from the table and began making his way to the instigator. Wilbur. Who still stood at the burning stage- the colorful banners falling away, exposing a ruby red sunset. That same fiery halo maximizing the dead look in what used to be very expressive eyes- the eyes of a poet and a writer. Now dead with the weight of expectations, loss of everything, and a man driven so far from what once was. They truly were the eyes of a man with nothing left to lose. 

“Well, that sure outdid my pathetic attempts.” Dream commented, stepping up to the platform. The scuff of his boots against the charred earth had alerted the former President of his arrival and presence. The blond had lifted his mask, refitting the bandana once more and gave a thorough sweep over the crowd, before turning to Wilbur.

“Well, you also combatted water. This is a barren field, Dream.” Wilbur laughed, humorlessly. His brown eyes held no emotion, and his curly hair untamed in the humidity. Admittedly- the armour was extremely heavy, adding on to the heat of the inferno had made the Pogtopians shed it. From the sides, stepped Tommy. His signature white and red shirt streaked with soot and blood, a similar look in his eyes that matched Wilbur. 

Dream nodded in greeting, before addressing them. “So, now what?” Wilbur cocked his head to the side.

“I’m not quite sure Dream. Perhaps we began our expansion from Pogtopia. It’s still a ways away, Dream. Surley, we can’t have everyone reside in that disgusting ravine. I’m sure, once we lay down a new foundation, we can start rebuilding.” Wilbur mused, eyes flashing dangerously. Dream narrowed his eyes at the thought of expansion, but quickly schooled his features into pleasant disinterest. 

“I’m sure you can figure it out. Why don’t we douse these flames, and conclude the events. I’m sure everyone deserves to hear from their president.” Dream said, placatingly. The blond once more raked his eyes over the sea of onlookers, before finally spotting his target. 

“George! Better late than never, we decided to do a little… redecorating.” Dream supplied to his once-ally. George looked about before stiffly nodding.

“It appears so. I’m so sorry to miss the festivities, but my invite appeared to have been lost in the mail.” The brunet claimed, a sour purse to his lips, and a small glare. 

“Ah, well I suppose it’s hard to miss! It’s a celebration! To the end of an Era! Manberg is no more, and Pogtopia has reclaimed her rightful capital.” Dream boasted, smirking. 

“Interesting.” George nodded. “Considering the democratic progression, I’m assuming that you’re aware of who is next to take the place as President?” 

“Of course! You would be next in line, after Quackity and JSchlatt. However, I believe Tubbo does have a say in that regard as well. He was Schlatt’s right hand man, after all!” Dream said, motioning for the brunet to step forward.

“He’s not of age yet, and it would be unwise to set a mere child on the pedestal of President.” George said.

“Yeah, but you are no longer in a position of power. See, before you showed up. Wilbur declared, with my aid, that he was stepping in. You weren’t anywhere to be found, so the position was given to Wilbur. And he’s chosen Tommy to take the mantle in his place. He is quite old for the position, and besides, Tommy is adept and smart enough to make his own choices. Wilbur, I assume would be acting as his advisor.” Dream grinned a Cheshire Cat grin- all teeth and bad intentions, seeing George’s eyes flash in anger. With a huff, the older male stormed away. Techno was quick to apprehend him, and handcuff him. The brunet scoffed in irritation, when Techno pushed him to the ground. 

“Really? You think I would willingly fight you? I’m not an idiot.” George scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“Shush.” Techno said. 

Tommy looked about the carnage. He saw Niki and Fundy among the crowd, tears down their faces. He saw George on the ground, looking like he was merely inconvenienced by this whole parade. He saw Techno, shifting around, as if the sudden arrival of the young teen had startled him. Tommy also saw Eret, still wearing that wretched  _ crown _ . A similar fur lined cape adorned Eret, though blue rather than Techno’s red. Tommy would’ve assumed it would have been green, for Dream. Dream, who had sided with Tommy instead of against. Who supplied them with various gifts and words of encouragement. Who stood beside Wilbur, a knowing smirk on his face- as if he was correct in all assumptions. That smirk who had once taunted him from across the battlefields. That smirk enraged Tommy. But he had to keep a lid on his temper. For looks, of course. This was Wilbur’s plan, after all. And WIlbur knew best. He always did. Tommy began his stroll to the stage as well. He stepped to the left of Wilbur, facing Dream.

“Here we are. Home again.” Tommy said, words he had been waiting months for to say. 

“Home once more.” Wilbur nodded. And with that- the trio called an end of the party. The Festival was over, and now they could heal. 

George was arrested and tried for treason. Sentenced to exile, never to return. Tubbo was kept in close contact with the cabinet, despite his activism as a double agent, they couldn’t be too safe. Construction started immediately- repairing the earth, and rebuilding the walls. A new name, to rewrite the history and change the trajectory of the story. 

Many of the citizens requested L’Manburg back, or transferring Pogtopia. Instead Wilbur and Tommy chose to rename it Poglandia- in an effort to stay on brand with their hideaway, and yet disassociate from the history of L’Manburg. The signature blackstone walls were reerected, as if they had never left and new homes were being built along the style of the docks and Jack Manifold’s home. The half-timbered homesteads began popping up, road repairs underway and the trade between the DreamSMP and Poglandia was beginning to thrive. All seemed at peace. Wilbur oversaw the construction, while Tommy handled the diplomacy. He met with Dream often about trading, imports and even restarting the embassy. Months after the Festival- Poglandia was thriving under the leadership of Tommy. Economy booming! Trade between DreamSMP and Poglandia is still going smoothly. It was perfect. Until taxes rolled out. 

“10 diamonds?! What is this!” Fundy yelled, in a town meeting. The fox hybrid held the tax documents, laying out the payment owed.

“To aid in repairs from the Festival. Quite a shock- that rebuilding and repairing costs money, Fundy. And it would do you well to remember who’s rule you live under. Be grateful it’s not more. I know what you said to Schlatt.” Tommy threatened, glaring down at the orange haired man. The fox ears twitched irritably, and his tail bushed. 

“I was UNDERCOVER! How else would I have had such intel!” Fundy defended.

“Intel you did not share! We got our information from Tubbo and Dream. Nothing from you. Now, you can either pay the tax, or you can work it off, Fox.” Tommy spits. ‘How dare this man declare himself exempt from taxes. Especially with how he treated Wilbur! Fundy  _ disowned _ Wilbur. To his  _ face!! _ That was not acceptable.’ coursed through Tommy’s head like poison. 

But Fundy wasn’t the only unsatisfied person. Eret, who had made a summer home in Poglandia was faced with an onslaught of taxes from the leader. Reparations, leasing and even a crop tax! He requested counsel with Tommy as well, and more or less received the same treatment. Reparations for his betrayal, leasing for the plot of land he owned and the crops for the fields they sowed. The audacity of the outrageous taxes made the King scowl as he stalked away from the meeting. He passed Dream on the way out, and gave a respectful nod to the blond.

“Hello Eret, how are you.” Dream asked, tucking his hands into his jeans. Eret shrugged, before recoiling. The blond wasn’t in his signature lime green hoodie for once. He was in a yellow sweatshirt with black and white checker print down the arms, black ripped jeans and white shoes. 

“I’m good, but this is new. I didn’t know you owned anything besides that lime hoodie.” Eret said, laughing lightly.

“Yeah, figured a change of clothes wouldn’t hurt. Punz let me raid his closet.” Dream laughed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The signature mask hid his face, but Eret imagined he was blushing slightly. 

“I like it! Punz has style!” Eret grinned.

“Yeah. Anyways, whatcha doing here?” Dream asked, diverting the conversation away.

“Taxes, and he wasn’t very clear about it.” Eret sighed, looking back to the room he was just in, with a dismayed look.

“Yikes, that’s rough.”Dream winced sympathetically. Eret hummed in agreement, refixing his crown. 

“Dream! Big man! Come on in, we have quite a bit to discuss! Eret, I apologize for stealing Dream away.” Tommy said, clapping Dream on the shoulders, coming up to them.

“No worries, I was on my way out. Have a good day, gentlemen.” Eret nodded, and turned to walk down the hallway. He felt his communicator buzz against his hip, and saw a message from Dream.

**_Dream_ ** _ whispered to you: meet me at your castle later, we should chat  _

  
  


Dream was starting to get nervous. He didn’t feel as confident in his choices after talking to Eret, and the way Tommy was acting was starting to unsettle him. He kept up his facade around Tommy though, through this meeting. And kept his mask to the side as a sign of good faith, something he’s done more around the blond since they were teamed together. 

“So Dream, I know we have a past about expansions and building areas. I want to gauge your opinions on our expansion plans- as the little hovel we currently possess isn’t quite big enough. Now, we won’t take over any of your pre-existing lands, but what about the lands from Poglandia, to Pogtopia? That forested area?” Tommy asked. The blond was reclined in his chair wearing a fitted white shirt and black slacks with a red tie, though he didn’t wear a suit jacket. The kid cleaned up pretty well, Dream admitted to himself. Curly blond hair brushed away from his face, he took a sip of water. 

“I mean, you already have a tunnel connecting the Prime Path to Pogtopia. I wouldn’t be averse to the idea of it. Though, to be perfectly clear- you will not be expanding the walls into DreamSMP. You can not expand forward past the hill leading to your embassy. You can expand outward into the unclaimed territory. Is that clear?” Dream asked, demonstrating the territory lines on a piece of paper. 

“Understandable. Understandable. Well that’s wonderful to hear! Truly, Dream! I’m so glad that we can finally get along, instead of fighting all the time. It was truly so boring, and bland.” Tommy said, waving a hand.

“Yeah, it’s all water under the bridge.” Dream grinned, allowing proverbial honey to drip from his words. Tommy gave him a weird look, but moved past it. The rest of the meeting continued onward unceremoniously. 

An hour later, Dream was able to excuse himself away from Tommy’s meeting. Feeling like he was being watched, Dream was quick to leave Poglandia and make his way to Eret’s castle. He requested Eret’s presence and patiently waited at the gates for the King to summon him. It didn’t take long for Eret to arrive.

“Good afternoon Dream, shall we go in?” The curly-haired brunet asked, extending an arm outward to Dream. Dream nodded his thanks and began walking up. They waited until they had entered the castle, before speaking.

“So, what brings you all the way over here?” Eret asked, taking a seat on the golden throne. 

“Let’s call it a reality check, and I just want to gauge public opinion. These are my lands, ruled by you and I feel like I may have made a mistake.” Dream said, stepping around the truth a little bit. 

“If this is a reality check, what’s opened your eyes, and why do you think that? If you don’t wanna beat around the bush, then speak plainly.” Eret said, propping his chin his hand. Dream pursed his lips in a scowl, fighting with wanting to be honest with Eret, and also not wanting to be seen as vulnerable.

“What I tell you is in complete and utter confidence. If you even breathe a  _ word _ of this conversation to anyone, I can and will strip you of all your power.” Dream threatened.

“Don’t be dramatic, Dream. We are merely a couple friends chatting. No backstabbing, no subterfuge, and no betrayals.” Eret said, lifting his glasses. 

‘ _ A sign of good faith… I’m sick of signs.’ _ Dream thought, irritably. But he followed suit, taking off the mask. 

“I think I made a mistake, siding with Pogtopia Eret. It was fun, being the good guy, but when Wilbur asked me to help him take down Manberg, I did. I gave them the TNT, and gave them the supplies they needed for the election. And now, Tommy’s in charge of Poglandia, and I don’t know if I’ve made the right choice.” Dream said, looking everywhere but towards Eret’s watchful eyes. Those pupiless white eyes tracking Dream’s pacing as he spilled his guts. The King sat back, thoughts racing.

“Wow, that’s certainly something.” Eret said, nodding. The blond nodded, despair crawling through his limbs as he recounted everything to Eret, who listened and gave minor input. And throughout this meeting, they reached a conclusion neither were happy with, yet both felt was the only way to fix it. 

  
  


Stone walls, adorned in redstone and gold, the soft patter of water droplets filled theravine with ambience. Quick footsteps echoed throughout the innermost cave systems. A series of winding and misleading tunnels which housed the founders of Pogtopia. The homebase of operations, and the personal capital of Poglandia. Vibrant oak filled the rooms, a stark contrast from the dusty and gritty caves. Armour stands weighed down with the sheer weight of the armour donned by the three residents, and chests bulging with goods harvested, stolen or reacquired. In the furthest tunnel, was Tommy’s. 

The current President of Poglandia paced his chambers with a head full of thoughts and mistrust. Certain days were better than others, and today was a bad day. The blond teen was struggling. A desire to please and appease people met with the need to be in control. Chaos was everywhere, and Tommy couldn’t bear with it. 

Balance was needed. The equilibrium of everything had been thrown off. JSchlatt took away the balance. JSchlatt broke the system. He **_ruined_** it. And _Tommy_ needed to restore what once was. He had to, for Poglandia. For Wilbur. For Techno, Dream and Tubbo. For everything they had sacrificed.For everyone he had let down in the last war. For Fundy and Niki. For Eret, despite his betrayal. Tommy could understand the King now, and why. Because why not? Siding with Dream had shown him what he didn’t know before. Dream had access, and supplies. And Dream could make things happen. _Tommy_ ** _had_** _to restore this, or he would never be able to live with himself._

“Was Wilbur right? Am I the villain in this story? No, I couldn’t be! It doesn’t make any sense. No. No. No. No! NO! I helped start L’Manberg, fought tooth and nail, poured my literal blood, sweat and tears in that war for independence,  _ sold my discs _ , and THEY TOOK IT AWAY FROM ME! They, they RUINED it!!” Tommy screamed, throwing a red tipped arrow he had been mindlessly fiddling with prior. The arrow sunk itself into the soft wood panelling with a soft  _ thunk. _ Tommy heaved with ragged breaths, staring at where the arrow shook from the impact, the arrow head completely sunk into the wood. Tommy cursed and began pacing once more, reaching his hands up to his hair and tugging on the strands. Pain sparked against the pulling, but Tommy shook his head, attempting to drive the thoughts away. Hot tears began leaking down the teen’s face at the emotional turmoil.

_ You’re wrong. They hate you. You’re RUINING THINGS. Just a fucking CHILD! Who let you rule a fucking country, when you can’t even control your thoughts. Wilbur doesn’t need you. He only pitied you, and you know it’s true. Techno is a better fit for the job.  _

It consumed him. Eating away at his psyche every hour, waking and not. Ate away like fungus from the earth to a corpse, aiding in the decomposition little by little, until nothing but bones remained. Though, most stories told a tale of regrowth, one could not assume the same from the shell of Tommy. A child thrust into a war at 16, until he was cast out into the wilderness a year later, and now one more year after- at barely 18, he was hardened past his breaking point. Lifeless eyes, and a broken psyche. 

Disestablishment was hard on adults and harder on children. Loss of home and safety, trusted with responsibility most soldiers didn’t dare wish for, and a sense of purpose to uphold the face of the country. The right hand man of General Soot, and yet he was only a child.  _ I am not a child. Not anymore. _ Tommy growled mentally, pulling at the blond hair once more, before a switch clicked. Hands fell away, and all turmoil evaporated. 

**_No, no, no, no, NO, NO,NO. I can do this. How dare they speak to me like a child. I know what I’m doing. I have not been a child for a long time. What would Wilbur think, if he saw me. What would Techno think. He’d think you're_ ** _ weak _ **_. You must be strong. For Poglandia. To prove Wilbur wrong. Wilbur was Wrong. You can be President. You are right now! So prove you can do this._ ** Tommy thought, tearing his hands from his hair, staring at the mirror in his room. Chest heaving with ragged breaths, the blonde shook his head once more to steel his nerves. Schooling his features into a frown, he took in his appearance, standing up and sky blue eyes raked his figure. 

Skinny, and pale from the ravine and lack of a diverse diet. Messy blond curls were ragged from his clutching and tearing earlier. Dark bruises under his eyes, and dullness filled the cerulean eyes. His lip curled into a scowl and he fixed his clothes. The pressed white shirt was now covered in grime from the day and caves. He swapped it for a loose gray shirt, and black jeans, with black combat boots. Grabbing and shrugging on a thicker coat for mining work, Tommy left his room, with a cold look donning his face. The breakdown cast from his mind for once and for all. 

And as the oak door slammed shut, the arrow embedded in the wall shook with the force, one of many, though it’s wooden shaft yet not broken. One of hundreds, scarring the wood with broken pegs, a wicked trophy case, or the locked up emotional turmoil of a lost soul with too much to bear. 

If only he had cast an eye to the side and saw who had heard him. Heard everything. A sole tear slipped down from ruby red eyes, under the mask, and landed on the dirt pathway. The man sniffled and wiped away the trackmark and brushed a strand of pink hair away, before following slightly behind the teen. Yet, instead of veering into the caves below, the pig hybrid instead climbed the stairs to the surface and sought out some aid. And some peace. Peace was something much needed these days. 

Technoblade never considered himself a bad person. Even when he ruled his Antarctic Empire with an iron fist, he felt himself a fair king who did everything in his power to protect his people. But, when he walked down, hearing Tommy through the walls, the former King felt ice crawl through his veins, as a pit dropped in his stomach. His little brother was hurting, deeply. WIlbur broke his brother, while Techno was away. And that caused a pang to echo into Techno’s heart. His baby brother, raised essentially by Philza before he took off onto the DreamSMP. They let him go, wanting him to grow up to be his own man. Until Wilbur went chasing after him. Techno barely restrained him from growling at the thought of his brother. Wilbur  _ broke _ Tommy. 

_ I can’t tell Phil… It’ll break him!  _ Techno thought, heart shattering. The pig hybrid ran a hand through the long pink hair, snagging on tangles. With a disgruntled scoff, the pinkette mounted his horse and took off to his own base, not yet committed to building an actual house. ‘ _ Who am I kidding, I’d just have to rebuild it 10 times over. Maybe a bunker is in the works?’ _ he thought, quickly guiding the horse through the hills and trees. He found his small underground base soon enough and tied the horse away from the entrance, before mining downward. He quickly found the ladder downward and took it under the river, resealing the entrance. It was small, just a handful of chests, a small enchantment table and a bed. Techno set his things down before sitting on the bed to sort his hair. Unclasping his cape to expose the pillowy white shirt underneath, the pig hybrid set to carefully combing through the long pink hair. He took care around the soft, velveteen pig ears before detangling. 

Once thoroughly brushed through, deft fingers quickly weaved the pink strands into two french braids, cascading over his shoulders. Now that his hair was sorted, Technoblade set forth to write out a long letter to his father-figure. He would have to ask Dream about cross server postage, but that was something for later. He essentially filled the man in on what had happened, sparse on detailing what had happened to his brothers- out of fear for the other server members. And out of fear for Dream, unsure what the older man would do to the masked blond owner. 

The pinkette would spend the rest of the night writing away. Filling Phil on everything he had learned on the SMP and anything that would not incriminate Wilbur or Tommy. He didn’t want any harm to come to his brothers. 

Time went on. Homes expanded, farms flourished and life prospered. Yet, the complaints had yet to end. Taxes were too expensive, the government growing harsher and harsher with each punishment. Simple misdemeanors faced extensive jail times, or seizure of property or values. Previous Manbergians found themselves receiving house arrest sentences, steep taxes and received little in terms of reward for their patriotism to Poglandia. 

_ What happened to the utopia that Poglandia was to provide? Could it be that Schlatt was a lesser evil than current?  _

_ Yet- who would save them now? _

_ Is it just written in stone that the citizens of L’Manburg prior shall know no peace?  _

_ Or is it an unopened opportunity to rewrite the past? _

_ The story may never be told, if they could not live long enough to finish the symphony of this new nation. _

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like some more, I do have more ideas in the works for this theme/era!


End file.
